“She’s, um …” Lola wrung her hands, shuffling from one foot to the other, “… well, she’s dealing with the vamps.” She met his eyes then; hers were shimmering, filling up with tears.
“You let her go alone?” Mitchell asked, incredulously. “Christ, what’s wrong with you guys?”
“It was your …” Luke started, his voice cracked a little as his careful, calm exterior began to splinter.
“No,” Mitchell said through his teeth. “My plan was for both of us to go. Not just her. Not alone. She could kill them all with a flick of her wrist. Amelia doesn’t get that. She can’t seem to grasp how powerful she is. And she’s never known how to talk to them. You’ve seen how they treat her. Like she’s my pet, not entirely my equal. The vamps humor her because they’re worried about what I’ll do if they don’t. They’ll push her until she snaps.”
“Eric’s with her,” Lola offered. “We couldn’t have stopped her, Mitch. She was,” she cleared her throat looking away, “determined.” She laced the last word with a punctuated force that told Mitchell everything he needed to know.
Mitchell closed his eyes, trying to ignore the painful twist in his stomach, and focused his thoughts on Amelia, searching for her. At first, he saw nothing and sharp pain lanced through his mind. The bond wavered, cutting in and out as if it hadn’t entirely formed. But then her thoughts blasted into his mind. He saw her standing in the park, surrounded by vampires. They were closing in on her. She grabbed Eric, yanking him to her side.
Magic flared inside her. He felt it, hot as fire, and he saw her thoughts with a horrific intensity. Amelia, no! Mitchell yelled through the bond, just as a wall of fire surrounded her and blood-curdling screams filled his mind.
CHAPTER 22
Amelia, no! Mitchell’s voice invaded Amelia’s brain with a blast of breathtaking fear. She jumped and swiveled. Flames leapt up all around her, encasing her in a circle of fire. She sucked in a frightened breath, clasping onto Eric with a bone breaking hold.
You’re awake! Amelia realized it with staggering force, and for a second she forgot all about the fire. Her heart skittered through her chest and into her throat. The delight at hearing Mitchell’s voice didn’t last for long. Howling screams echoed around her, freezing her heart solid.
Amelia, stop it! You need to stop! Mitchell shouted through the bond. His voice was loud in her ears, strong and forceful and commanding. She could feel him trying to take her magic, pulling on her energy with a fierce intensity, but the power clung to her with a relentless force.
Amelia frantically tried to pull her magic back. Panic seized her like an icy hand fastening around her throat. The flames shot higher, the heat inside the circle grew, blistering and dry. I can’t, she shouted through the bond. I don’t know …
Right then, Eric yanked on her hand, spinning her around to face him. His skin was coated in a crimson glow from Megan’s magic. “Help me!” he shouted over the painful sounding screams, grabbing hold of both of her hands.
His eyes burned brighter than the fire, and his leafy-green hair was damp with sweat. But his hands … his hands were steady, grounding Amelia’s panic, and centering her mind. She laced her fingers through his, and with a small bob of her head, she closed her eyes, pulling on the magic. She could feel Megan’s power coursing through Eric, mixing with her own. The flames crackled and spat, growing hotter. The heat radiated around her, pushing against her skin. She drew upon her own magic, letting it merge with Megan’s, and she yelled, “Out! Out! Out!”
As soon as the words fell from her lips, a rush of air swirled around them, with enough force that Amelia stumbled. She caught herself on Eric’s sturdy arm, and pried her eyes open one at a time. A thick black cloud of smoke billowed upwards. Amelia sucked in a noisy breath, tasting acrid ash on her tongue.
She let go of Eric, scanning the ground surrounding them. A circle of smoldering grass popped and hissed, spitting sparks from the doused fire. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin from head to toe. Her hands were shaking, and her breath, ragged. Fear pierced her skin with millions of frigid needle tips as she searched the ground for larger piles of ash, praying she wouldn’t find any. Please don’t let me find any, she thought, and her stomach rolled. I didn’t mean to kill anyone. Please. Please. Please.
Once she was certain that there were no piles of ash big enough to be one of them, she glanced up to find a ring of vampires standing just outside of the charred circle. A few of them had tendrils of wispy smoke rising from their skin. She counted them all, making sure everyone was still standing, and when she was certain they were, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“What did you do?” Jake exhaled the question with one puff of breath. He was looking at her with what Amelia could have sworn was respect, although he also looked more than a little freaked out. His chest and arms were covered in bubbled blisters, and charred skin, that were slowly healing.
Amelia couldn’t find her voice, but even if she’d been able to, she didn’t have a clue how to answer the question. She really wasn’t sure how she’d summoned the fire, or why her magic had chosen to manifest itself in that particular element since she’d changed into a vampire. It seemed … dangerous. Seriously, vampires and fire didn’t mix. Sure, she’d burned Lola a few times, but that was only a singe when their skin touched. She’d never summoned fire before the change. Not like this. And right then, instead of trying to figure out how it had happened, she found herself wondering if the flames she had just created could have hurt her as well.
“She warned you.” Mitchell’s voice was impossibly cold and firm. Amelia’s heart squeezed, and she looked up, her eyes snapping to him like a magnet stuck to metal. He strode through the crowd with his chin high and shoulders back, as if he was still the head of the town, the master of the vamps. Luke and Lola flanked him, their muscles moving fluidly, but ready.
Amelia cursed herself silently. She should have known he’d come. She should have been there when he woke up. She should have been watching him through the bond. She should have … “Mitch,” she started. Dread hit her like a steel pipe over the head.
“Amelia made it clear she wanted an explanation,” he said, cutting her short. “I’ve told all of you not to underestimate her.” He scanned the crowd, his eyes hard and his jaw stiff, and his thoughts echoed loud and clear through her mind.
“No one was killed,” she said, answering his silent question. He met her eyes then, extending a hand to her. What are you doing? she asked silently, as she closed the distance between them, hopping over the embers on the burnt grass, and took his outstretched hand. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back along her spine, and her hands vibrated with worry. This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Ever. In seconds, they would all realize that he wasn’t the same and when that happened, she was sure it would be the beginning of the end of the world. Well, at least the end of her world.
Mitchell didn’t answer her silent question. Instead, he looked out over the crowd that had gathered, closing in around them and said, “Someone better start talking, because I cannot understand why any of you would threaten my soulmate.”
No one spoke up, and Amelia noticed none of them would meet his gaze either. Could they not see the difference in him? Did they not see the mark on his neck or her name scrawled beneath it? The smell of his fresh blood wafted around her, tangy with a hint of spice. Mouthwatering. She needed to stop this, and get him back to the house before anyone noticed. Amelia used her magic, focusing on his mark and distorting it, attempting to make it look like a smudge of dirt. “I provoked them,” she said in a flustered rush, watching his neck to see if it was working. The magic blurred the lines a touch, but she was sure that if anyone actually looked at it long enough, they’d still be able to make it out. She tugged on his hand, taking a step back, but he shook her off.
“That’s no excuse, Amelia.” Mitchell gave her a pointed look, before raising his gaze to the cluster of vampires. “Who attacked first?”<
br />
Mitchell Lang, I swear I will drag you back to the house if I need to. What the hell do you think you are doing? Amelia didn’t try to hide her annoyance as she sent the thought through their newly formed bond, and she made sure to let him feel every ounce of the breathtaking fear that was winding tight knots in her stomach.
Mitchell didn’t look at her. He kept his hard gaze on the crowd and straightened his shoulders further, making himself look bigger and his muscles firmer. He had the same presence he’d always had. It commanded attention, and made even the strongest, most poised, quake a little. He emanated confidence, and the way he held himself was as if he was daring someone to undermine his authority. We can’t hide forever, he replied firmly.
Amelia gawked at him for a long moment, and in that moment she decided that it was official: her soulmate was insane. Yes, we can! She shouted it so loudly that Mitchell actually winced. A sliver of pain shot through him, she felt it through the bond, and she saw every muscle in his body spasm.
Love, stop. The thought was tight, laced with strain. His jawline twitched and the muscles in his neck corded with tension. You’re going to show them the truth.
Amelia couldn’t breathe. The pain in him was increasing, burning through his veins. She tried to change her mind, tried to force herself to agree that he was right, but it was useless. No matter how she thought about it, there was nothing right about this. Nothing. Mitchell was being reckless. He was going to get himself killed. And Amelia was certain that she wouldn’t survive that.
“Millie,” Lola called, drawing her attention. She leaned in closely, her lips pressed against Amelia’s ears, and she whispered so softly that Amelia could hardly hear her even with them so close. “Luke once told me that we don’t always have to agree with other people’s choices, but even though we don’t think they are right, they still have the right to feel the way they do.”
Amelia almost snapped at her. This really wasn’t the time for words of wisdom. Mitchell was paling and his breath was strained. Amelia was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold his in control front for much longer. She went to grab hold of his hand, ready to drag him back to the house, but then Lola’s words started to sink in. She looked at Mitchell’s paling skin, and his twitching muscles as the pain of the bond took hold of him and she realized what Lola was saying. I don’t have to agree. I just have to give him the right to make the choice. And just like that, the uncomfortable feeling of Mitchell’s pain lessened and thinned, until it was entirely gone.
Uneasy whispers clouded in Amelia’s ears. She pulled her eyes away from Mitchell, watching as the vamps slowly moved back, giving them more space. A few of them were eyeing Mitchell, but most kept their gazes glued to the charred ground.
“I asked a question,” Mitchell said. He took Amelia’s hand again, squeezing it within his own. He pulled on her magic then, letting it flare up, and coated them with a mix of white and red light. “And I expect an answer.”
“It was me.” Jake stepped forward. The last of his blisters had already healed, leaving his skin slightly flushed. He glared at Mitchell with blood red eyes and held his chin level. “And I’d do it again. It’s none of her damn business what I do with my soulmate. And I don’t appreciate you sending your spawn into my house to threaten me either.”
Mitchell laughed. It was cold and heartless and cruel. “You’d do it again.” He shook his head, as if he was sure he hadn’t heard it right. “Luke, did he just say that?”
Luke chuckled, the same cold and heartless sound as Mitchell’s. He moved with lazy steps towards Jake, Eric following his lead. They both let their fangs slide down maddeningly slow, their lips curving into devilish grins.
The hushed whispers of the crowd silenced and some of the vamps even scuttled back a few steps as Eric and Luke circled Jake with a predatory grace, eyeing him up and down. They were toying with him, letting him sweat. And to Amelia’s disbelief, it was working. Jake stiffened; Amelia was certain he was holding his breath, too. Luke didn’t miss his discomfort. His smile grew, reaching his eyes. It was full of excitement, as if he was dying to rip into Jake, and he said, “Yes, he did.”
Lola made a noise. It came from the back of her throat, wheezing out of her mouth. Amelia cut her a look, seeing the humor dancing across her eyes as Lola fought against her bubbling laughter.
Amelia almost groaned. She didn’t understand how this was working, or why any of them would risk it, but she forced herself to play along. “That’s enough, guys,” she said, forging her voice to sound bored. “Stop playing with him. I doubt he’s really that stupid, but if you really need to make a point, then get it over with. I have things to do.”
The silence broke. Amelia heard a few gasps, and it was an effort not to cringe. She was, and had always been, the one who wanted to keep the peace, and from the few glances she got from the crowd, she knew they were stunned at her response.
“The town has cut off the blood supply,” someone said, although Amelia didn’t know who it was. “Would you prefer it if we took it from our soulmates or should we just kill for our food? Last I remember you were going to execute anyone who hunted.”
“As far as I’m concerned, draining your soulmate is the same thing as hunting,” Mitchell said. “Don’t you agree, love?”
“Uh, yep,” Amelia said, through her teeth. She hadn’t known that the town had cut them off, and she should have. Eric had mentioned that they were pushing back, but she’d never imagined that it was this bad.
Amelia opened her mouth, ready to demand to know when it had happened, when Megan’s bewildered voice shot through her mind, Millie, Eric! We’ve got a little issue here.
CHAPTER 23
The first time he’d seen Angelle, Tyler had thought she was a self-absorbed airhead. They’d been at a party, and back then, he’d been interested in Amelia. That was before Tyler knew about vampires and before Amelia knew Mitchell was real.
They’d both been drunk, and at some point in the night he’d gotten pretty close with Amelia. Eric had freaked out and that was when he’d first seen Angelle. She’d batted her long eyelashes at Eric, and used her pouty lips and perfect figure to get him to chill out. And Tyler remembered thinking that she was hot and she knew it all too well.
As it turned out, Angelle’s looks had nothing to do with the control she had over Eric, and she was far from an airhead. She was older and stronger than Eric was, and Tyler knew from experience that when her tone sweetened, like it had that night, that was the time to back down and walk away. She may look like an angel, but the girl was deadly.
Tyler rolled down the window, letting in the fresh, crisp air, and readjusted himself behind the wheel. He’d been driving for hours now. His legs were stiff, his butt, sore, and he really wanted to pull over, but the last sign he saw said Lakeridge was only fifteen miles away. He didn’t really have a clue where to start, but he figured the next big town over from a town run by vampires was probably as good a place as any.
So far, his plan was to grab a motel room somewhere and wait. That was it. From what he’d learned about the mark and the bond, the vampire—Tyler couldn’t bring himself to think of her as anything other than the vampire—would find him. She’d feel him, feel her soul in him, and she’d start searching. Tyler figured his best bet was to stay put, and be ready. She’d be new, young, inexperienced, and he was hoping that that would give him an edge.
His phone began to ring again, and he glanced at it, reading the flashing call display. Angelle. She’d been calling almost every hour since he’d left, and Tyler itched to answer the phone, to hear her voice, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. If he did, if he heard her silky voice, and heard the pain in it, he was pretty sure he’d end up turning around and driving right back to her. And turning around wasn’t an option. He waited for the voicemail to pick up, snagged the phone from the seat, and switched the sound off before tossing it in the glove compartment.
The whole thing made him feel sick, but he couldn’t t
hink about a life without Angelle. He just couldn’t. He’d never expected to feel this way about her, as if he’d die without her. And really, until recently, he hadn’t. They’d been … comfortable with each other, and he loved her, but he’d never really thought she could be his forever. It wasn’t until the stupid mark showed up, and with it, the knowledge that he was losing her that made him realize that he didn’t want—couldn’t handle—a life without her in it.
Up ahead, Tyler noticed that the tangled forest that he’d been driving along side was thinning and he could just make out what looked like roof tops in the distance. He stepped on the gas a little harder, anxious to get out of the car.
Lakeridge wasn’t much bigger than Willowberg, not huge, but not really small either. The streets were well kept, and all the stores on the main strip had a homey feel to them. After a quick tour of the town, Tyler pulled up to a strip-motel just outside the downtown district that had a bright flashing Vacancy sign in the window. It was a tan colored building, with vinyl siding, which looked to be only half full, with cars parked in front of four of the eight rooms. On the other side of the street was what looked to be a pub-style restaurant.
Tyler parked his car in front of the office. Through the window, he saw the check-in clerk, a boy about his age, absorbed in some video game. He popped open the car door, and jumped out, stretching his stiff muscles, before he reached back in the car and snagged the stake he’d had on the front seat. He stuck it in his back pocket, and was just about to pull his T-shirt over it, when he heard the silky voice from behind him. “It’s not smart to be walking around with a weapon like that in this area. Someone may think you’re looking for trouble.”
Tyler stiffened, and then in slow motion, he turned around, pushing away the shock and sudden panic that flitted through his chest. A wave of cold washed over his skin and his heart pummeled against his ribs. The girl looked to be sixteen at the most; sweet and innocent, with big blue eyes and white blond hair hanging around her slim shoulders. She smiled then, a white smile with sharp teeth, and he said, “Maybe I am.”